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Jul 2018
I miss the simple days when you were once
a garden.
Iā€™d prowl into your living room
and nap,
lazily,
across the seedy couch you found
in the basement of a thrift shop.
I paid no mind to the vines that grew
lavishly around my ankles.

The sunlight that cascaded through
the cracks in the windows
seemed to nourish my limbs
as much as it tended to
your own needful soil.

Lately, you seem to prefer
to deny your roots as a bearer of fruit,
preferring to be known
as the flightless astronaut who will
someday discover
a new Earth to reinvent your crops upon.
Written by
Danielle  23
(23)   
  289
       Rick the shoe shine boy, --- and trf
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